


Heart Shaped Bruises and Late Night Kisses

by yrmmbggy



Category: Misfits (TV 2009)
Genre: Dysfunctional Relationship, Gore, I promise it’s not all miserable, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Sorry there’s a lot, tw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-17
Updated: 2019-06-17
Packaged: 2020-05-13 11:46:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19250560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yrmmbggy/pseuds/yrmmbggy
Summary: “Let’s go on a huge bender.”And that’s how it started. Admittedly, Simon was hesitant at first, but unable to think of a single reason why staying in Thamesmead- completely sober and alone (since Nathan had said he’d go with or without him)- was better than being high and carefree with his not-boyfriend, he agreed.





	Heart Shaped Bruises and Late Night Kisses

**Author's Note:**

> !!CHECK TAGS FOR TWs!!
> 
> So this one is a lot admittedly. Something about it still seems...odd? But I know that if I didn’t post it now it would never get posted and I quite like it.
> 
> Just thought I’d put it out there that I’m not encouraging any of this behaviour, it’s very unhealthy and I hope that you guys understand that I’m not trying to promote it, it’s just a work of fiction.
> 
> Comments and Kudos are appreciated x
> 
> (Title from Toothpaste Kisses by The Maccabees)

Community service was finally over and, quite frankly, it was underwhelming. Nathan expected some sort of celebration or a teary goodbye or at least a ceremonial burning of the jumpsuits to symbolise their new and improved reformed selves or some other bullshit.

But they just fucked off home like any other day of the week.

Well, everyone else fucked off. Nathan stayed in his makeshift home and wanked himself off, refusing to think about the fact that he would have to find somewhere new to live.

They all promised to keep in touch and they did, for a while at least. They’d meet up at the bar on the estate every Friday night, update each other on the previous week, swap stories and jokes and act like nothing was different.

Alisha was the first to stop coming. She had told Kelly over text that she was moving away; she couldn’t stand Thamesmead any longer. Not even a proper goodbye.

Next it was Curtis. He and Nikki were moving in together. He had no time for the ASBO freaks anymore.

Kelly stuck around for a little while longer, but even she stopped coming eventually.  
“It just ain’t the same now, y’know?”

So then it was just Nathan and Simon, sipping on cheap beer together, trying to fill up a six person booth with only two bodies and hollow conversation.

They had been exclusively shagging for about a month now (they’re not dating, Nathan had made that quite clear after the third or fourth time) but despite the quick fucks they had in nightclub loos and the occasional run in with another superpowered weirdo, the two still felt pointless and idle.

It was a slow night at the bar and Nathan had been oddly quiet for the past hour, interjecting the odd quip only occasionally, so it came as a surprise to Simon when he had laced their fingers together and grinned and said:

“Let’s go on a huge bender.”

And that’s how it started. Admittedly, Simon was hesitant at first, but unable to think of a single reason why staying in Thamesmead- completely sober and alone (since Nathan had said he’d go with or without him)- was better than being high and carefree with his not-boyfriend, he agreed.

***  
It was the next day, and they were on the tube, stoned out of their minds.

Nathan had snuck into Simon’s room early that morning, lipsed him and then told him to grab his Oyster card. They didn’t need belongings or clothes, just Nathan’s rucksack of drugs and each other. Beneath the drugged out haze in his mind, Simon vaguely remembered that he had a family to say goodbye to, but although he loved his sister and his parents, he doubted they’d notice he was gone. His sister was going through that stage of adolescence where no one could talk to her otherwise she’d _“fuck you up so bad, Simon, I swear to god!”_ and his parents only took an interest in him if he was attempting arson.

Nathan didn’t care about saying goodbye to his mum or her glorified pet dog. He had been missing for days on end before, and no one had been any the wiser. In fact, the first time he had interacted with his mum in weeks was when he had nipped round in order to steal Jezza’s Oyster card and bank details.

“What are you doing now that your community service is over?” His mum had asked him in a tone that he might’ve mistaken for concern if he was stupid enough.

“Me and my friends have been starring in some amateur pornos mum, I’ll send you a copy if you’d like.”

On their way to the nearest station Simon had asked Nathan where he’d gotten all the drugs from, feeling a little concerned at how easy they were at his disposal.  
“I went to sixth form with a couple of nasty fellas,” he had replied, “they owe me. I know shit about them.”

And Nathan knew shit about everyone. He was very good at finding out people’s darkest desires, their most shameful act. And no, it wasn’t because he was seen as trustworthy, and he wasn’t like Simon, who could just blend in the background and hear the most horrifying confessions. No, Nathan survived mostly on blackmail, so he had perfected the art of digging up dirt on the most dangerous and influential people he knew.

It let him live like a king.

Or at least, it scored him free beer and drugs occasionally.

Simon had never smoked weed before, but he was pretty sure he knew he was high when the tube map began confusing him. The oversaturated, colourful squiggles all bending and twisting and overlapping made his brain hurt. He watched as they seemed to snake off of the wall, wriggling into Nathan’s curls. Simon reached his hand into Nathan’s hair.

“What on earth are you doing, Barry?”  
“Getting them out.”

Nathan knew where he wanted to get them to, but how successfully he could do so was a different story; he felt like Barry’s carer as he watched him coo at a dog that wasn’t there. They somehow managed to find their way to the part of London where ‘the poshos and the tossers live’ without many funny looks and they stumbled through the streets, giggling and leaning on each other for support. Every ten minutes or so, Nathan would pull them into a back alley and they’d shotgun another joint.

“The metropolitan police are corrupt fuckers,” Nathan made a point of saying, “Don’t get caught.”

As they passed the high-end cafe’s Nathan made obscene gestures at the various pensioners and business executives having afternoon tea.

One woman hit him with a “Why are you such a vile little boy?” but Nathan just returned with a “I think if you’re doing something as bent as having brunch then I get a free pass, don’t I?”

Simon thought he should apologise for his (not boyfriend, no) friend’s behaviour, but decided against it.

Everyone around them did look like a twat.

At one point in the journey, Simon heard some music coming from a window above him. He stopped in his tracks and let it worm it’s way into his head, dancing around his brain. He giggled.

“Nathan!” He stage whispered. Nathan stopped and turned to face the other.  
“The music! It’s so good!”  
His face was full of wonder as he stared excitedly at the taller man. Nathan simply smiled and shook his head.  
“How sweet. Baby’s first high.”

Nathan seemed to be leading them somewhere, loosely holding onto Simon’s wrist and yanking him in varying directions. Every time Simon asked where they were going, Nathan just stuck a finger on his lips to shut him up.

After what felt like ages, they found themselves stood outside of a huge gated townhouse, the back of which was surrounded by acres and acres of forest.

“W-who’s house is this?” Simon asked, struggling to yank the words out of his mouth. He had no idea pot would make his brain so slow.

“My uncle’s”  
“Right. And why are we at your uncle’s house?”  
“To live here!”

Simon frowned. He didn’t know whether it was Nathan’s lack of explanation or the weed that was making Simon slow on the uptake.  
“Won’t your uncle mind?”

“He’s in Peru for a few months. On business or on a jolly or something. Fucker posts everything on Facebook.”

Simon nodded, though he was still wary. The blissed-out effect of the pot must’ve been waring off.  
“Doesn’t he have staff-“  
“Nope. Fired ‘em all. He was worried they were all conspiring against him or something. Paranoid bugger I tell ya.”

Simon looked at him quizzically.  
“Irish families love a wee gossip.” Nathan offered as an explanation.

Nathan then proceeded to explain his plan, which mainly involved Simon: Simon turning invisible, Simon climbing up a tree and jumping into the garden, Simon destroying the burglar alarm, Simon smashing the security cameras and Simon opening the gate to let Nathan in.

He gave himself his own little plan too: Don’t get distracted, Don’t shudder at the metal fencing, Don’t do all the drugs before Simon gets back and- for fucks sake- try not to die in the next twenty minutes.

Whilst Simon was gone, Nathan didn’t tremor at the metal fencing and he didn’t feel dizzy, like he was tumbling backwards and he certainly didn’t remember the sharp, hot feeling of being pierced through the chest.

Then suddenly, the gates creaked open and Nathan stopped thinking about the things he definitely wasn’t thinking about and beamed.

“Let’s fucking go.”

***

  
Nathan had brought everything he could get his hands on in such a short period of time: coke, acid, mushrooms, weed, you name it.

They were a ‘no ecstasy household’ though. Simon had been insistent on that.

When it came to the drug taking, Nathan was perfectly happy to use trial and error when it came to figuring out what reversed their powers, but Simon wasn’t content with letting Nathan chance his life like that, so he insisted on trying everything before Nathan to see if his powers changed.

“Hey, that isn’t fair!” Nathan had argued, “you’ll get more of a buzz than me!”  
“Would you rather be high or dead?”

Nathan just rolled his eyes in response.

***

They shagged everywhere: in the shower, on the dining table, against every wall in the house, on the tiger-skin rug in the lounge, in the bathtub and once- when it was hot, mind- on the rooftop garden.

The synthetic grass felt rough and coarse on their bare bodies, but that didn’t stop Nathan from being ploughed into next week. The sunlight glistened beautifully off of their sweat-soaked skin, his bronze complexion a stark contrast to Simon’s milky white pallor.

***  
It was a Thursday and Nathan was sitting at the bottom of the pool, not on anything yet- just a lot of vodka.

He had gone to the pool for a bit of peace and quiet while Simon was elsewhere, probably bashing one out undoubtably. Sure, he could pleasure Barry himself but the still, turquoise water (situated in the basement, no less) looked so inviting that he thought he’d go for a swim. Then, he began sinking down and before he knew it, he was just touching the bottom, the weight of the water surrounding him feeling oddly comforting.

It felt different to being trapped- which, after the whole coffin thing, admittedly made him freak out a bit- but he still felt like there was something there, something reassuring, like being wrapped in a comforter as a small child. The water was all he could see and it felt peaceful; His mind could be completely blank down here.

Blankness was just what he needed in a world of mothers’ boyfriends and wandering hands and extra attention from Father Kelly even though mass had ended ten minutes ago.

Just as he was about to let the water swarm his nose and lungs, trying to reset his brain and wipe out the unsolicited memories that threatened to invade, he heard his name being called above him.

Nathan emerged, his hair slicked down his face like it was covered in oil, and he grinned up at Simon.

“Comin’ for a swim, handsome?”

***

Simon tended to have the best wanks of his life while he was high. Elaborate, beautiful visions of Nathan would fill his senses: Nathan with his back arched like a cat, Nathan exposing his long, golden neck. Simon could almost hear every moan, taste every bit of-

And then he’d explode, fast and gorgeous all over the Persian rug and Nathan would saunter in, every inch of skin exposed, cigarette dangling from his lips and lean in close and whisper “let’s do it for real.”

***

Nathan tended to die a lot when he was high. It was mostly accidental, but sometimes the rush of pressing the cool metal of his uncle’s shotgun to his temple or silk bedsheets around his neck or the overwhelming feeling of too many drugs spiralling in his system felt too good to pass up.

After all, you can’t feel pain when you’re numb all over.

Simon hated it when Nathan died, purposefully or not. He remembers walking into the kitchen to see him spread out on the Lino, limbs akimbo, his brains splattering the counter (and the cupboards, and the curtains).

Simon think he cried and cleaned up before Nathan awoke, but he had raided the liquor cabinet afterwards so that the details were skewed, like he was looking at then through a kaleidoscope. All he recalls is the sight of his (not boyfriend, never boyfriend) best friend lying in a puddle of his own blood and the strong scent of bleach.

After that it got easier. Every time he walked in on Nathan, bloody and bruised, he’d start his routine of drink-clean-wait, hoping that the alcohol would numb him enough to prevent the tears from leaking from his eyes.

There was once when Simon had stumbled upon Nathan hanging from the curtain rail with his cock in his hand. Simon thought grimly back to the porn he would watch, the stuff he’d find so arousing and thrilling; Seeing it now just made him feel disgusted in himself.

He had taken Nathan down from the ceiling and zipped up his jeans, hoping this would give him a more dignified revival. Simon winced as his fingers brushed over the indigo and violet splodges that hung around Nathan’s neck, like some sort of sick necklace.

There was another time when he saw Nathan sprawled at the bottom of the spiral staircase, having fallen down them the night before in his drugged up stupor. His arms and legs were bent at funny angles and some bone had even torn through his skin, making Simon want to vomit. That evening, when he held Nathan’s hand waiting for him to wake up, he couldn’t look at him.

Occasionally (and only very occasionally) Simon would have to fight the urge to bring out his camera and film Nathan’s limp body, or trace his finger along the curvature of Nathan’s cold lips. He didn’t want to do anything mucky, it’s just that he found corpses...intriguing. He yearned to learn more; to analyse the differences between the living and the dead.

And then he’d remember that this was _Nathan_ he had in front of him, and he’d shamefully scold himself.

He had brought it up one time, when they were lying together on the chaise lounge. Nathan was smoking a bowl, his head in Simon’s lap, and Simon was stroking through Nathan’s web of tangled hair, occasionally taking a hit.

“Why do you always die?”  
Nathan stared up at him, eyes red and glassy.   
“Huh?”

“I mean,” Simon continued, struggling to convey his point eloquently, “you’ve died a lot. Since we’ve been on this bender and-“  
  
He took a breath and scrunched his eyes shut, trying to picture the words in his mind.   
“It’s like you don’t care about yourself anymore. Like you don’t care about me. Why do you keep leaving me?”

Nathan turned around and got on his hands and knees, piercing Simon’s gaze with a look of concern.  
“Barry. It’ll take much more than a couple of accidents to get rid of me. Trust me, no matter how hard you try-“ he cracked a smile “- I’ll never leave. I’ll just keep coming back. I promise.”

***

It was a Monday and they were in the bedroom and Nathan was having a bad trip.

They had each taken a tab a couple of hours before and Simon was handling it well, despite the fact that everything looked like it had just crawled out of a Picasso painting.

Nathan however, was not handling it well. Simon was sat on the floor against the foot of the bed and Nathan was lying upside down on top of it, head dangling off of the end, face close to Simon’s, reminiscent of the famous Spider-Man and Mary Jane kiss. But instead of gracing Simon’s lips with his, his eyes darted around feverishly and he choked out a watery “I think I’m dying, Barry!”

Simon shifted his body so as to face Nathan properly, ignoring the way the world slid on its axis.  
“What do you mean?”

“They’re everywhere. They’re coming for me.”  
His voice sounded scratchy and raw and he shot up with a gasp like he had been possessed by something.  
“I can see them! They’re here- oh fuck!”

He began tearing at his hair, rocking back and forth. Simon clambered up onto the bed, trying his best to ignore all of the distractions around him- the feel of the silk between his fingers, the sight of bright swirls of colour all around him- and wrapped his arms around the taller man, letting Nathan shake and whimper in his arms.

“There’s no one here?” Simon responded, confused.  
“Just me. I’m here. I’ve got you.”

Nathan held Simon’s hand in a death grip.  
“Don’t let me wake up alone,” he whispered, “I hate it. Please, don’t let me wake up alone.”

“I never do.” Simon soothed, “I never do...”

***

Nathan tended not to eat when he was high. The drugs fuelling his system filled him up greatly, making him lose his usually enormous appetite.

Besides, you get much higher on an empty stomach.

It wasn’t until Nathan had keeled over from hunger one morning that Simon forced him to eat at least one meal a day that didn’t consist of pills and powders.

***

Simon tended to capture a lot on the grainy screen of his mobile when he was high, like some sort of arthouse porno director. Nathan’s shining collarbone, the early morning dew on a rose petal, ruffled silky bedsheets, Nathan’s frantic dancing in the hallways, teardrops laced in Nathan’s eyelashes, half a glass of a mimosa laying alone by the pool, Nathan in lacy lingerie, two lines of coke on the dresser.  
It was like his brain saw everything to be more beautiful when he was dizzy and cloudy from whatever he had just taken.

And when he would get around to stitching the clips together like a gorgeous Frankenstein’s monster, it would be Simon’s own scrapbook of possibly the best (and worst) time of his life.

***

Matt had once told him that he was too clingy, and Simon had become acutely aware of it over the past few years. At first he thought it was a good trait. I mean, he was still willing to trail after Nathan like a puppy despite all the shit he’d put him through.

But maybe that vice-like grip and unrelenting clutch was suffocating Nathan and maybe it made him feel like he was being controlled and maybe, just maybe, that’s why Nathan kept topping himself.

Maybe Matt was right.

***

It was god-knows what day at god-knows what time and Nathan was on X. Simon was none the wiser.

Maybe he should’ve felt guilty about going behind his back and scoring some Molly but Nathan was past the point of caring now; he just wanted to be numb.

The whole point of the bender was to fill the gaping hole in his life now that community service was over and give him something to focus on. He hated community service with a passion, but it distracted him greatly from the fact that he was homeless, jobless and lonely. His mother had kicked him out without a second thought, all of his friends had left him as soon as they possibly could and the only thing he had now was the company of his own depressing, borderline masochistic thoughts. Well, that and Barry. Barry, who Nathan wanted to call his boyfriend, but was too scared that he would disappear if Nathan admitted he might love him to do so.

And the bender had been great at the start, but over time everything just felt too routine and mechanical, like he was only getting high for the sake of getting high. So far, nothing had filled the ever-expanding void that suffocated him, the void that could only be left by dead brothers and absentee fathers and exhausted mothers.

He felt just as empty and distant and lonely as ever, which was pretty fucking selfish considering the fact that he had a (lover? shagger?) that followed him on this massive shit show and cleaned him up every time after he had died and coaxed him out of his weird mental breakdowns.

He didn’t know how it had started, the breakdowns. It began by Nathan just pushing everything to the back of his mind into his ‘save for later’ folder and then pretty soon he found himself crying in the shower, not realising it until the water on his lips tasted too salty to be from the pipes. Maybe the whole ‘not dying’ thing was finally getting to him. When you’re immortal, your life seems to have less value; Maybe Nathan was trying to see if his life had meaning anymore.

Yeah, maybe Nathan did feel a little shitty about breaking Simon’s trust like this, but he was going to disappoint him eventually so he may as well get it out of the way.

So Nathan was on X, hoping that maybe it would fill the void somehow, and hoping that Simon didn’t find out.

But of course, of-fucking-course, he did.

Nathan was on the rooftop, pupils dilated, lying down on the AstroTurf and running his hands over the false grass. His heart was thumping too quick and his muscles ached, but he felt so fucking good he didn’t care. He was singing a song (or slurring one, rather) that he had heard at a club once when he was eighteen and never managed to catch the name of. He thought he had lost it somewhere in the carboot sale that was his brain, but lo and behold, here it was.

He stretched his arm up, wondering if he could touch a star. The sky seemed so deep that you could fall straight through and get lost forever.   
_That seems nice. To get lost in the sky._

He wanted so desperately to jump up and dance around and sing as loud as he could but his joints were on fire and he felt like he would snap in two if he tried.

And then suddenly Simon appeared above him _upside down_ , dressed in a woman’s silk robe which was odd, Nathan thought, as he was usually the one that blurred the line between masculine and feminine with painted nails and ladies’ knickers and rouged cheeks.

“Nathan...” Simon muttered sadly, before he gently clutched Nathan’s wrists and hoisted him up and then Simon was the right way around and everything was fine again.

Except, judging by Simon’s expression, it wasn’t.

“What did you take?” He whispered, though he feared he already knew.  
“I can’t tell you,” Nathan whispered back, “you won’t like it.”

He released Nathan’s wrists and he fell into Simon.  
“Shit,” Nathan said, “this robe is, like, orgasmic!”  
  
“Cmon Nathan, we need to get you in-“  
“Fuck no, I can’t move. Everything _hurts_!”  
“It’s because you took E, you idiot! Please, you have to get inside before you end up-“

Simon tugged at Nathan’s sleeve but he pulled backwards roughly.   
“Piss off,” he spat, “I don’t have to do shit. Why the fuck do I always have to listen to you, huh? I can look after myself.”

“Nathan,” Simon’s voice cracked, “ _please_! You’re not thinking straight and-“  
“I thought you were having fun!” He stumbled backwards out of Simon’s outstretched hand.

“I was. I am! But the dying-“ he swiped the tear leaking down his face, “-why do you keep fucking _leaving_ me?”

“Maybe it’s because it doesn’t matter!” He yelled, stepping backwards again as Simon moved closer.  
“I just keep dyin’ and comin’ back, over and over again. My life _literally_ has no worth!”  
“Nathan that isn’t true! There are so many people who love you and-“

Nathan scoffed.  
“Oh yeah?” He spat. “Who, Simon? Please, fucking enlighten me. Because I don’t know a single person that hasn’t abandoned me, let alone _loves_ me!”

“Me, you idiot! _I_ haven’t abandoned you! _I_ love you! I’ve stuck with you through all of this crazy shit because I love you!”

And there it was, the words that scared him the most. _Love_ ; It was the biggest lie he’d ever been exposed to.

“Don’t say that, Simon!” He screeched, stepping back again. Except this time, his foot met with no ledge and his stomach plummeted as he felt himself fall backwards, almost in slow motion.

His memory was thrown back to the community centre roof, which felt like years ago. Like then, his heart lurched in his throat as he slipped backwards, knowing he faced certain death. This is what he wanted, isn’t it? To finally have some meaning?  
He wasn’t so sure.

However, unlike last time, strong hands gripped his arm like a vice and Simon, eyes streaming and mouth agape, pulled him viciously forward, causing both of them to tumble to the ground as just a pile of bones and tears and regrets.

Simon clutched Nathan like a lifeline and Nathan trembled in his arms, whimpering between sniffles a mantra of “I’m sorry.”

***

The next day their bender came to an end. Simon says it’s because Nathan almost died _for real_ last night.

Nathan says it’s because they ran out of drugs.

They packed some essentials into Nathan’s rucksack (some cash, two cans of beer and some lacy lingerie that turned Simon on) (Nathan always questioned why his uncle had so much women’s gear poking around his house; He either hired a lot of hookers or he was a crossdresser. Either way, Nathan was impressed.) and they left the house, leaving the memories of the past (weeks? Months?) inside.

On the tube ride home, whilst Nathan slept on his shoulder, Simon thought about how happy he was to return to boring, shitty Thamesmead with his not-boyfriend and an excruciating hangover.

Over the course of their bender, Nathan had never frightened him so much if he was honest- not in the way that he felt threatened by the Irishman, but in the way in which he was always so close to losing him- which he knew wasn’t healthy or good or how a relationship should be, but he also knew he couldn’t leave Nathan like this: scared and lonely.

Maybe, when they’ve both sorted out this shit that they so obviously need to work through, they could be proper boyfriends...

Nathan snored lightly and buried his face deeper into Simon’s shoulder.

_Yeah_ , Simon thought, _I like that idea._

And Nathan, despite his previous objections, liked that idea too.


End file.
